


for all that beauty that doth cover thee

by MercutioLives



Category: Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Multi, Polyamory, Pregnancy, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 21:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2362583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercutioLives/pseuds/MercutioLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Some weeks after they – himself, Romeo, Julia, and Tybalt – fled the city and came to this pretty little place, Mercutio discovered that he could climb from his bedroom window and onto the roof."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	for all that beauty that doth cover thee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carmarthen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmarthen/gifts).



> This ran a bit long, given the 300-word minimum, and I'm a bit nervous given that it's for the lovely Carmarthen, who's more or less my idol in all things RésJ. I hope you like it, my dear!

The quiet autumn mornings in the country were a far cry from mornings in the heart of Verona. Beautiful, to be sure, and peaceful – but alien all the same, and even after six months, Mercutio found the stillness of it unnerving. Verona had been his home from his very first breaths, and now he could never go back. Oh, the city had faults in plenty, and there was much about it that he was glad to be quit of, but it was all he had known. The little villa overlooking Lake Garda was charming and pleasant: he did not hate it, surely, but it was still so _different_. Some weeks after they – himself, Romeo, Julia, and Tybalt – fled the city and came to this pretty little place, Mercutio discovered that he could climb from his bedroom window and onto the roof. At first it had been difficult, owing that he was still recovering from the wound left by Tybalt's knife, but now he wagered he could do it blindfolded. He came up here when the weather was good and he wanted to be alone; often, it was while the others were asleep, so that his presence was not missed. This morning, he sat cross-legged at the roof's edge, whittling away at a block of wood while the sun reached its rosy fingers across the water. So absorbed in his task, he didn't notice the soft grunt of effort that punctured the silence, or even that his solitude was broken at all, until a gentle hand came to rest upon his arm.

"I thought I'd find you up here." Julia's cheeks were flushed, but her voice was light and she was smiling. She sat close to him, shoulder to shoulder, and watched as his knife carved a shape from the wood in his hands. The two of them were not as close to one another as they were with Tybalt or Romeo, mostly because Mercutio had initially been jealous of Julia's innocent hold over both of the men he felt so passionately for, but time and experience had begun to wear away his uncharitable opinion of a girl who seemed only made to be loved. He couldn't say that he adored her quite so much as the others did, or as he did them, but if nothing else she was a good friend and confidante. Even sheltered as her life had been, she was more clever and bright than most women he'd known, and she had a knack for pulling him out of the dark moods that sometimes took hold of him. He could see, now, why Romeo had fallen so fast in love, and why Tybalt was so unflaggingly devoted.

"Do take care with such thoughts," he replied, a smile creeping across his lips in spite of himself. "At this rate, you shall begin thinking like me – a crime which I hazard neither your husband nor your cousin would forgive, even charming and _persuasive_ as I am." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, prompting a giggle and a blush from Julia. Half a year they had lived together in this unorthodox arrangement, yet even the tamest of his jests could cause her cheeks to redden. It was really quite endearing, for all that he would have found it tiresome in any other girl. They chatted amiably for a good half-hour or so, Mercutio carving what his hands decided would be a bird, while Julia rested her head upon his shoulder, until their conversation tapered off into silence. Julia sat up then, her head bowed so that her hair hid her face from view; the change was sudden enough that Mercutio became distracted and nicked his thumb. Apart from a hiss that was more surprise than pain, however, he paid it little mind. His attention was all on Julia, waiting, electing not to prompt her to speak just yet – and her words came soon enough that no prompting was needed.

"I'm with child," she blurted as she wrung her hands; she looked up hesitantly through the curtain of her hair as if she expected to be scolded or struck. The confession was nothing near to what Mercutio might have expected her to say, and for a heartbeat or two he was struck dumb for pure surprise. Julia had quite the knack for bringing about the unexpected, he thought: it was seldom that anyone could stun him into silence with any sort of news, yet here they sat, Mercutio mute and Julia waiting.

"...Oh. Oh, I see. Well. That is..." For once, Mercutio found he could not command the words to frame a decent reply. Why, of all people, had she chosen to tell him first? (And he _was_ the first: he could tell by the way she said it that she had not said the words aloud before.) Had she sought him out specifically to tell him, or was she simply unable to hold it in any longer? He'd have assumed that Romeo would be the first to know: they were married, after all, under the eyes of God and it was very likely that the child was his. Then it struck home that, knowing she was pregnant, Julia had _climbed up onto the roof_. Irrational as it was, he felt a brief twinge of guilt that she had done so in search of him. He pushed the thought aside and, with unaccustomed hesitation, reached out to pull her close, only to have her start sobbing into his shoulder the moment he touched her. She shook like a leaf in his arms, and of course she would be terrified: she was only seventeen, barely a woman, and this her first child. Thoughts began to churn in Mercutio's head, trying to figure out what they could do, how they would proceed. Because of the haste and nature of their departure, Julia's nurse had not been able to accompany them, and while she did have a lady's maid, she was only a meek little slip of a thing, no use at all in matters such as these. Mercutio was no better, having never so much as considered it before, and he was sure that neither Tybalt nor Romeo would be of any more help than he.

Eventually, Julia's crying came to a shuddering stop, and she permitted him to help her down from the roof. Getting down was more difficult than climbing up, and while he had no problem with the descent on his own, he exercised a great deal more caution as he guided Julia back down onto solid earth. The smile of thanks she gave him was watery, her eyelashes and cheeks still wet with tears. Mercutio felt unusually and unaccountably bashful as he wiped the wetness away with his thumb and kissed the top of her head. It appeared to have the desired effect nonetheless, for her smile widened and her answering sigh was one of relief. She took his hand in hers – it was warm and soft, while his was icy, though she didn't seem to mind it – and tugged him back inside. She'd have to tell the others soon, they both knew this, but for the time being they were content to keep the knowledge to themselves.

This trust she had in him was unprecedented, impossible, and yet why else would she have come to him with such precious news? It was a queer and novel experience, to be trusted by someone apart from Romeo – who trusted anyone and everyone who so much as spoke civilly to him – and he had no idea how to manage it. He was well-used to being the target of suspicion, to being thought of as untrustworthy in all things, even by his own family. (Especially, he thought with a faint bitterness, by his uncle.) That Julia, who had never been given any reason to think well of him, even after six months' cohabitation, would challenge that common belief when Mercutio himself had never thought to do so, was perplexing. Good sense told him to warn her away from placing too much faith in him, but he was selfish enough to want it all the same. Her hand, he noted, was still tucked into his, and she was smiling up at him, now dry-eyed and seemingly cleansed of fear. Mercutio's heart stuttered at the way she practically glowed with affection, and again realization struck him hard: not only did she trust him, regardless of whether or not he deserved it – she loved him, too. The grin he returned to her was broad and more sincere than he was used to giving.

Some hours later, when the rest of the house was awake and Julia unburdened herself once more of her news, to Romeo's delight and Tybalt's well-meaning anxiety, Mercutio was still grinning; he found he was disinclined to stop. She sat slightly closer to him than usual, her hand resting lightly upon his knee while the other was clasped around Romeo's fingers. There was an atmosphere of warmth and wellbeing in the house that they shared, and for the first time, Mercutio thought, they felt like a family at last.


End file.
